Angels and Devils
by amasianfish
Summary: There are three types of people in the world: humans, Angels, and Devils. Angels are in charge of a package, each containing the human lives of a specific city. If the package is destroyed, so are the humans of the city. What happens when Devil Santana has to make Angel Brittany destroy her package- NYC? AU, Quinntana, Samtany, endgame Brittana, a little bit of Faberry
1. Chapter 1

Angels and Devils

"Hey! Q!"

The blonde in question turns around and glares at the apartment door.

"About time, Santana! Open the fucking door!"

The door buzzes and Quinn Fabray seizes the handle, swinging it open. She stomps up the stairs, dripping rainwater all over. I giggle a bit at how ridiculous she looks through the peephole. She runs a hand through her short hair and unlocks the door to our apartment, the one she shares with the one and only Santana Lopez. Me.

"Jesus, Santana! You left me buzzing the door for twenty fucking minutes! It's fucking pouring, in case you didn't know!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, Q. Calm down." I walk up to Quinn and help her take her black trench coat off.

"Damn, Q. You look hot in purple." I whistle in appreciation. "Your job has its definite perks for me."

Quinn blushes, and tries to regain her angry face, as cute as it is. "Seriously, S. Every single time it's raining, you take forever to buzz open the door and-" I cut Quinn off with a sudden kiss. She leans into it, moaning a bit as I quickly take off her transparent short dress, getting to the purple lingerie underneath. I tug off my black V-neck t-shirt, barely breaking the kiss, left in a lacy black bra and skinny jeans. I back into the apartment door, effectively closing it, then wrap my hand around Quinn's neck, and pull her closer. She eagerly deepens the kiss, sliding her fingers into the belt loops of my jeans, then grips my ass.

"I promise to get to the door faster," I say huskily. "Now let's take this to the bedroom."

Quinn nods in agreement, and we make it to our king-size bed, closing the door behind us.

* * *

"So how was work?" I ask, genuinely interested as I slip on my bra and V-neck.

"Eh, it was all right. That idiot Jacob Ben Israel keeps coming on to me, no matter how many times I tell him I'm _gay_," Quinn grumbles. "I guess it makes sense, though, since I'm a Victoria's Secret Model."

"Yeah, you're an _Angel_," I smirk.

Quinn grins. "Yup, purest around."

We both laugh, shaking our heads.

"Seriously, though, Q. I'll kick that Ben Israel kid's ass if I need to get him away from my girl," I say confidently.

"Yeah, I know, S. But I've got it covered."

I raise my eyebrow. "In both ways, I hope."

Quinn pauses a moment, then bursts out laughing. "Yes, S. I've got my _parts_ covered, too."

"Good. No one touches my girlfriend but me."

"Yes, don't worry. But Santana, how was _your _day?"

My face darkens a bit. I think back to this morning. Bunch of mail, visit to headquarters, then that talk… The project.

"Nothing much happened. Same old, same old."

Quinn studies my face. "All right."

I squirm under her scrutiny. "Yeah."

I stand up abruptly, and say in a rushed tone, "I'll order and pick up Thai tonight."

I quickly get out of the room, shaking my head at myself.

I can never lie to Quinn.

* * *

"Britt!"

I turn to see my blonde-haired boyfriend. I smile in greeting.

"Hey, baby."

Sam pecks me on the cheek. "What's up, Britt?"

"I should be asking _you_ that, Sam. What are you doing in New York City? I thought you have to stay in Ohio."

Sam grins, his eyes sparkling. "Schue gave me the night off to see my gorgeous blonde girlfriend, Brittany. Though it kinda sucks 'cause it's pouring."

I smile widely. "Awesome, babe! But who's gonna watch over your package?" I lower my voice at that last part, glancing around at the New York City streets.

He pats his jacket pocket. "Got it right here. Now stop worrying, hon. This is _our_ night."

I hug Sam tightly, ignoring our wet clothes. "I missed you, baby. Long distance is hard."

"I missed you too. Let's make up for lost time."

Sam grabs my hand, and we walk down Broadway, the night's lights shining in our eyes.

"Let's go see Wicked," he says excitedly. "I got the tickets from your friend Rachel. You have your night off tonight, anyway. It should be fun watching from the audience, not the stage."

I chuckle and nod happily. "All right! But let's get dinner first. I'm thinking Thai?"

Sam laughs at me bouncing up and down. "Mmm. Let's go!"

* * *

The rain beats down on my windshield as I maneuver my sleek black Jaguar through the streets. My destination: Thai Palace. Things have been running nonstop through my head since my visit today to headquarters. I keep hearing Sylvester's voice, her request shocking the air. And me.

"Lopez, get your act together," I mutter to my empty car.

I shake my head and park the car a few blocks away from the Thai place. Rain won't hurt me. I feed a few quarters into the meter and set a brisk pace, my charcoal pea raincoat billowing a bit behind me. As I walk, I notice a young, very American-looking couple walking ahead of me. Both blondes, both attractive. I snort at the sheer commercial look of them.

"How's work?" the woman asks.

The man shrugs. "What you'd expect, I guess. I'd assume it's the same situation as yours."

The woman shakes her head vigorously. "No, no, Sam. New York City is so much different than Lima, Ohio. More dangerous."

I have to give that to her; this city is full of chaos sometimes.

The man named Sam looks confused. "Then why would Schue give you the riskier location instead of me?"

The woman's face hardens. "Just 'cause I'm a girl does _not_ mean I can't do my job well, even if it's 'riskier' than yours."

_Ha_, I think. _You tell him._

Sam seems to notice her cold expression, and quickly backpedals. "You know I didn't mean it that way."

"But you did. You see it as a weak woman in a dangerous city, and since I'm a _girl_ I can't protect my packa- _myself_ as well as a 'strong man' like you. Even in a more precarious situation, I can do my job _just_ as well as you, maybe even better."

Sam throws his hands in the air. "Fine, Brittany. Fine. Let's just go eat."

I now realize that we're outside of Thai Palace. I brush past the two, then turn around. "You know, she's right. Women can do better than men in many fields. Stop making idiotic comments, you sexist jerk. Thank you for your time."

I catch Brittany's appreciative smile towards me before I turn again and walk through the doors, a satisfied smirk on my face.

* * *

Sam is dumbfounded, his eyes still on the doors the woman disappeared into. I snigger a bit. Sam has always been sexist, even if he's never really realized it.

"Can you believe that woman? Butting into our conversation, then she insults me?"

"Firstly, it wasn't really a conversation, more of an argument. Secondly, you had it coming," I say quietly.

Sam whips his head towards me. "Oh, you're siding with her? I get it. I'm leaving, going back to Ohio, where apparently I do a terrible job at my vocation."

"Sam," I protest. "C'mon. It's just-"

"No, Brittany. Thanks for ruining one of our rare free nights."

He stomps off, quickly hailing a cab and climbing in, the taxi driving off being my last sight of him.

I sigh, and walk into Thai Palace. Might as well eat and try and thank the woman that stood up for me.

I enter the restaurant, scanning the room for the woman. I spot her picking up her order at the register, and make my way towards her. As I get closer, I can make out her features easier. She is gorgeous. A Latina, and a stylish one at that. She catches my eye, and tries to walk past me, but I grab her arm.

"Hey, I'm Brittany Pierce. I just want to say thank you. A lot, actually."

The Latina shrugs. "No big deal. He was being douchey, if you don't mind me saying. Your boyfriend, I take it?"

"Yeah. He's perfect, besides the whole sexist thing."

The woman raises an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem perfect to me."

I shrug. "I guess. But thank you."

"Sure."

We look at each other. I can tell we're both stopping a smile from appearing. I decide to take a risk.

"Can I have your number? I think I like you, mysterious woman."

Her face is priceless. "You… like me?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "I mean in friend terms, silly."

"Oh," she chuckles. "Sorry, I'm a little vain. Sure, Ms. Pierce."

She takes my hand, pulls a black pen out of her coat pocket, and scribbles a name and number on it.

"See you around, Pierce." She winks, and then she's gone.

I can't stop the grin from stretching across my face. I look down at my hand. _Santana Lopez_. And seven magical numbers.

"Nice to meet you, Santana," I murmur.

* * *

As I get back into the apartment, the blonde swims through my head. I've never met someone so fierce, daring… Sexy.

I walk into the kitchen, setting the takeout bag onto the table. "Q, food!"

I turn around, and there is Sue Sylvester with a very angry looking Quinn.

"Shit," I mutter.

Quinn approaches me. "When were you planning on telling me that Sue asked you to do a project, and when were you planning on explaining it?"

"Umm… Tonight…?"

"No, you weren't! How long were you going to keep this from me? Projects are a big deal, Santana!"

Sue steps in between us. The older woman stares at me.

I shrink back a little bit. "I didn't know it was urgent."

Sue glares at me. "I told you it was imperative, this project, today, when I asked you into my office during your visit to headquarters! Now, will you explain my inquiry to Ms. Fabray or shall I?"

I stay silent.

"Fine. Now Fabray, I've asked Lopez here to help me with a project concerning the Angels. After a couple of years, I've finally managed to track down the Angel that has the package of New York City. It was difficult, mind you. Out of the eight million people in this city, I've found the Angel."

Sue smirks, clearly proud of herself.

"Now, I want Lopez to befriend the Angel, even seduce if that is what it takes."

Quinn's eyes bulge at the word seduce. "No way, boss! This is my _girlfriend_ you're talking about!"

Sue rolls her eyes. "Yes, and this is also my personal _first-in-command _Devil. I have complete control here. Anyway, once she befriends slash seduces the Angel, therefore making the Angel trust her, she must locate their package. Then, she must convince or trick them into destroying their package, thus killing everyone in New York City."

Sue pauses for a second. "You know that every city has an Angel, right Fabray? Yes, well here's a reminder. Each Angel holds a package containing every single life in whichever city they are assigned to. If the package is destroyed in any way, every single human in that city will perish. So, then Lopez will make or persuade the Angel to come to our side, hence becoming a Devil. Got it, Fabray?"

Quinn is frozen, still processing the information. I grumble to myself.

"Sue, I told you I might not want to do this."

Sue brushes it off. "Why not? You're a Devil, born and raised. As is Fabray over here, standing shell-shocked like on of those many statues in my chambers from countless cities I've killed off. Minor ones, yes, but still. New York City shall be our first major assault. Don't you want the fame? The recognition? The pride? The acceptance? We all know that not many of our kind accept you in Devil society, you or Fabray. I, myself, have graciously taken you for one of my own, but I can't say the same for many of your peers."

I bite my lip, torn. "It's a big responsibility. And I'd feel bad for Q."

"I'm sure you can handle it."

Quinn finally speaks. "S, do what you want. It's fine. For the greater evil, right? Us Devils have to make the hard decisions…" she trails off, showing me that she's just trying to convince herself as well. Sue, however, pays no mind.

"There's the spirit, Fabray!" she cheers. "Now Lopez, will you either accept this project or will I have to force you?"

I straighten my posture, and say clearly, "I accept."

"Wonderful, Lopez. Here's a file on the Angel. Luckily for you, it's a woman. Your lesbian ways will not be wasted on a male. Good luck." With that, Sue vanishes with a puff of black smoke. How original.

I hold the manila folder in my hand, and glance at Quinn. She has an uneasy look on her face, still struggling with her decision to let me go ahead with the project.

I steel myself, and open the folder. The Angel of New York City's face and name stares at me.

Brittany Susan Pierce.

* * *

**A/N- This is my first fanfic with chapters! Crazy. It's based off of a short story I wrote for English class this year, using the Angel/Devil/package idea. It's on Figment. The link to my Fig page is on my profile. The story is called Angels if you would like to read it:) I'll try and update weekly or biweekly. Sometimes it's really hard for me to write, though. I have no beta, so I apologize for any errors. Feel free to review! I love feedback.  
-L**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I meander back to my apartment, humming "Absolutely (Story of a Girl)"by Nine Days. This song should get more credit. It's about crying rivers!

"This is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world; while she looked so sad in photographs I absolutely love her- when she smiles!" I sing softly.

I pass the Gershwin Theatre, where Wicked is currently showing. I wonder if Santana's seen it before… Seen me.

Santana Lopez. I've talked to her for maybe three minutes, and she's already running circles in my brain. This is something different. It's something _real._ I can tell there's a connection between us, a connection so powerful that it was tangible in those mere three minutes. I don't know… There's something about her. Her confidence. It's admirable how sure of herself she was back there.

I walk into my apartment, the one I share with my castmate Rachel Berry. She portrays Elphaba in Wicked, and does a darn good job.

Rachel is… interesting, to say the least. She's vibrant. Very outgoing, driven, passionate about her career… Crazy, sometimes. I don't think she'd deny that. They say the way someone does something is the way they do everything. That's definitely true about Rachel. She does everything with passion. She's a good person. Caring, for sure. Once, my cat, Lord Tubbington, was on the fire escape, and then he wouldn't leave. He got trapped. It was dangerous, 'cause it was nighttime and anything could've eaten Lord T. He'd make a filling snack.

Anyways, he was trying to catch a pigeon. I dunno why he'd try… The pigeons are six times faster than him. Anyways, Rachel coaxed him from the fire escape using raw meat. That in itself is selfless, 'cause Rach is a vegan. It took an hour for him to come back inside, but Rachel kept at it. I still owe her for that.

"Brittany! You're home early. I thought your night escapades with Samuel would have kept you for longer. I got the Wicked tickets specially for tonight, though I suppose it's good thing you didn't go; I suppose you haven't heard that the whole crew came down with the flu tonight, besides me, because as you know I never get sick, but everyone else did, therefore cancelling the performance. Anyhow, Samuel had called me a week ago, explaining his intentions of a romantic evening as a sort of reunion for you two, seeing as you don't seem to see each other often, as his career as a construction worker keeps him quite occupied. I understand that buildings have to be built, what with the bountiful homeless and all, though I don't know exactly the precise populace of those unfortunate people in Lima, but perhaps Samuel should take a few more days off once in a while, given that you charming young couple barely get to meet up and exchange accounts of your daily lives. As well as other things. So, Brittany. Why are you back so early? Did something dreadful happen?" Rachel gasps.

Rachel tends to talk a lot.

"Well, he made a rude sexist comment. I defended myself, then this random woman chimed in. Sam got all mad and left," I explain.

"Hmm… I do believe he has done that before. You would imagine he would have learned by now. I'm sorry, Brittany."

"It's all right. I met this woman tonight. The one that stood up for my rights."

Rachel gets a sly smile on her face. "A woman, hmm?"

I blush, and immediately shake my head. "Just because you're bi, Rachel, doesn't mean the rest of the population is."

"Hey now, I wasn't implying you or this woman are bisexual or lesbian. I was merely inquiring."

I sigh. "Rachel, I don't know. I talked to her for three minutes."

"Then, pray tell, why do you grin like a silly fool whenever you mention her, and what is written on your right hand in black ballpoint pen?"

I glance down at said hand. Santana Lopez written in a messy yet elegant scrawl.

"It's her number," I say, defeated.

Rachel squeals. "Oh my gosh, you asked for her number? That's a well-known question in the community that symbolizes, 'Hello, I would like to date of have sexual interactions with you.'"

"No! I had clarified before that I only like her as a friend!"

"Oh, so your actions before the request for her digits were conveyed as flirtatious?" she teases.

"Ugh, Rachel. Why."

Rachel simply smiles. "Let's call her."

* * *

Dammit.

Why, _why_, does the Angel have to be Brittany Pierce, the woman I met half an hour ago?

_This is why I can't have nice things._

Brittany was so _likable_. I had only listened to her and that dumbass's conversation for a few minutes, talked to her for another three, and yet she already has a hold on my mind.

Brittany Susan Pierce.

I flip through her file, wincing as I get a small paper cut. She's twenty-five. She grew up in Lima, Ohio. She lives in NYC, very close to the Gershwin Theatre. She's on Broadway as a dancer, currently one in Wicked. A very talented dancer, it seems. She has a roommate named Rachel Berry, one of the leads in Wicked. She has an obese cat named Lord Tubbington. She has a boyfriend named Samuel Evans. They've been dating for eight years. Her blood type is O negative. She identifies as a heterosexual. She barely passed high school (William McKinley High School) but excelled at Julliard, majoring in dance. Her favorite color is green. Her favorite food is apples with honey, and she despises oatmeal. The information about her seems to be endless.

Brittany Susan Pierce is the New York City Angel.

Damn.

"Santana Marie Lopez!"

I jerk my head up, startled. Oh, right. Quinn is here.

"Dammit, Santana! Listen to me when I talk!"

"I'm sorry! This Brittany seems interesting."

Quinn lets out a frustrated sigh. "You have to promise me something."

"What?" I ask, half-listening.

Quinn stares right at me, dead serious, and she looks the most vulnerable I've ever seen her. "Promise you won't fall for her."

"Oh, Quinn..." I say softly. "Why would you think that?"

"Because… When you were looking at her file… You just had this look on your face. A tender look. _Promise me._ I can't lose you, S. I can't. I… I love you."

Never in the years we've been together has Quinn ever said that to me. And I've never said it to her. It's not how we roll. Damn… she _does_ love me.

"Q, you don't have to worry. She's an _Angel._ She doesn't compare to you in the slightest. You're beautiful, Quinn. You will never lose me. You're my best friend and lover. I promise. I… love you too."

Those last words feel strange coming out of my mouth, almost foreign. Love… I've never thought of it, of saying it. I thought Quinn always understood that I love her, so I never said it. The verbal statement seems to reassure her, though.

Quinn steps forward and kisses me all of a sudden, pushing hard. Her tongue slips into my mouth, and it's probably the most passionate kiss she's ever given me. It's strange.

When we break apart, Quinn smiles.

"Thank you."

I smile back, and am about to say something when my black iPhone rings. I give Quinn an apologetic look and glance at the number. It's unknown, but in the state of New York.

I press answer. "Hello?"

* * *

"Rachel!" I hiss, covering the microphone.

She laughs, and grabs my white iPhone out of my hand.

"Hello? Is this Santana Lopez?" she queries cheerfully.

I try to grab the phone back, but she runs incredibly fast and locks herself in the bathroom.

"Rachel Barbra Berry!" I shout, pounding on the door. "Unlock this door right now!"

"Yeah, it's Santana. Who's this?" Santana's voice floats through the door. Rachel must've put her on speakerphone.

"This is Brittany Pierce, who you met tonight."

Oh no.

"Oh, hey. Calling so soon? How forward of you."

Her voice is _sexy_. Wait, why did I just think that? I mentally berate myself.

"Maybe. Well, I was wondering if you'd like to go for lunch with me tomorrow. As friends," Rachel says confidently.

Santana laughs. "Sure, let's do it. Meet you at the Gershwin Theatre."

"How… How do you know I live near there?"

There's silence on the other end.

After a pause, she says, "Umm… I may or may not have been so intrigued by you I Googled you…?"

I furrow my eyebrows. The way she said it sounded off, somehow. Rachel is satisfied, though.

"My charm is overwhelming, isn't it? You just _needed_ to know more," she gloats. I'll see you, Ms. Santana." Rachel hangs up.

Oh God. I'm having a lunch date with Santana Lopez tomorrow.

I lean my back against the bathroom door, sliding down and coming to a rest, effectively blocking Rachel's way out. I stare at the wall across from me, painted white with peeling starting to occur, my bedroom a few feet away. Well darn. I don't get it. Why am I feeling so happy, yet nervous? Why, whenever I think about her I feel like my smile could break my face? There's so much more to this than I thought.

"Let me out, Brittany," Rachel calls.

I steal a glance at my bedroom door. The white wood stares back, and I weigh the chances of Rachel catching me summoning my laptop. I would get up and retrieve my laptop myself, but I can't risk letting her out of the bathroom to see what I'm up to. I don't know why… I just don't want her to know I'm Googling Santana. I look back and forth between the bathroom door and my bedroom door.

"What the heck," I murmur.

"_Let me out_," Rachel repeats, this time more forceful.

I raise my left hand and concentrate, picturing my Macbook Air in my mind. The bedroom door opens, and the laptop floats its way over to my lap. I lift the top, and wait for the whirring to stop. I log in, typing my password in with great precision. Eventually, my background image comes up- Sam and I at a carnival fair in Ohio. His face is painted like a clown, white covering his visage with cherry red cheeks, lips, and nose. His smile is blinding, and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders. I in return am painted like a cat, black paint that had already started to crack and white whiskers, my eyes sparkling as I stare into his, a grin on my own face. I remember that day clearly. Eight years ago.

I was seventeen, him sixteen. No duties yet, just the reckless lives of teenagers as they live their lives carelessly. It was the annual fall carnival, and Sam had asked me to be his "date." I had accepted, because firstly, Sam was and still is my best friend, and secondly, I thought it was pretend. He had never shown interest in me before, so I thought nothing of this. Many boys have made advances before, but I declined each offer. I wanted a real boyfriend for my first kiss, someone who'd love me for a long time. Not a hookup.

We ambled around the fair, soaking in the sounds and the lights and the festivity suffused through the nippy air. As the day came to a close, I turned to Sam and started to thank him, but he put a finger to his lips. I giggled, and didn't make a sound. He pulled out his camera and took this exact picture. As I looked into his eyes, my heartbeat sped up and we both leaned in, our lips touching lightly.

That was the night of my first kiss, and it was truly awesome.

A loud pounding on the door I'm leaning against shatters my daydream. The vibrations jolt me forward, but I immediately push back against it.

"Brittany Susan Pierce! Open this door right now!"

Oh, right, Rachel.

"Not yet," I call back. "Somehow I'm getting a reverse sense of déjà vu. This is your punishment for stealing my phone. Kaaaaaaarma."

Even though I don't really mind.

As Rachel's frustrated groans echo through the bathroom, I pull up Safari on my laptop and quickly search Santana Lopez New York City.

There are two. The first I click on is a champion hot dog eater who is twenty-four. The other is a twenty-six-year-old fancy lawyer with her own firm. She's probably the fancy lawyer. Though Santana didn't seem like a snob, she was definitely classy.

I close the laptop and levitate it back to my room. I stand up and pull open the bathroom door. Rachel must've been leaning against it, 'cause she fell right on me, knocking us both to the floor.

"Ow!" I yell. "Rachel!"

She slowly disentangles herself from me and winces. "Sorry, Brittany. Here's your phone. Since I wasn't sure how long you would keep me in there for your said revenge, I decided to lean against the door to rest my legs a bit."

I whack her playfully on the head as I take my phone back. "Don't do it again, kid."

"Which; stealing your phone or landing on you in a heap of limbs?"

I shake my head and smile. "Both."

Rachel grins broadly. "All right. But Brittany, do you want to cancel the date? I'm sorry if I overstepped your boundaries."

I cringe. "Don't call it a date. Please. But… No, it's fine. Santana seems like a very nice person."

Rachel sports a crafty grin. "All right, Brittany. But I have a feeling you're going to fall for this woman. Call it gaydar or bidar, but my Sapphic senses are tingling."

I roll my eyes and go into my room. After I flop onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling.

Nope. I'm straight as a telephone pole.

Then why does my heart beat so fast?

* * *

**A/N: AGH I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I was in Colorado for the past ten days, which was awesome as a matter of fact, but I was super lazy before then and didn't write at all, which I feel terrible about. I revise my earlier statement to say that I shall update as soon as I possibly can. No specific time in between. Again, I'm incredibly sorry about the delay... But I hope you all enjoyed the chapter:) Reviews are welcome.**

**-L**


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